


He doesn't stop at "red"

by SometimesyougettheBear



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22445233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SometimesyougettheBear/pseuds/SometimesyougettheBear
Summary: Just a short exposition on my thoughts on rape in fanfiction versus reality
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	He doesn't stop at "red"

I used to love the idea of noncon,

The force, the holding the breath for the outcome, the saying “no no no” but it really meaning _“yes yes yes”._

Now I see it for what it is. It isn’t fun for the 40th time, when your rapist pushes himself into your unwilling body. There is no “yes” written in the grit of your teeth, the stiffness of your body, the rage in your eyes. You want to curl up, play dead, Your instincts scream at you to freeze before this predator who is unraveling your defenses, turning bulwarks into shredded silk.

The books don’t talk about this either: The boredom. After your first 40 days in the cage that he built you underground. When you’re lying, legs out and he’s inside you again. And he’s hitting it close but not quite right. And he asks you how you feel and you smile.

Because of course you can’t tell him no.

There’s this lie of consent. This lie that drips from your tongue. You’re playing this game with him, where you pretend he hasn’t kidnapped you from your world, your dreams, and the light outside. And he pretends you’re his dutiful wife/girlfriend and your “honeys and sweeties” are real.

There is no point in which the lie becomes the truth. Fuck the pretty words. A lie will always be a lie.

No one talks about this either: What it feels like to watch weeks and months go by. Years even without the hope of anyone saving you. How you mark days and weeks in twigs, scratches on the well and then eventually rooms in your mind. I would have been 24 you tell yourself. I would have graduated college. Graduated law school. Gotten married. Found a job. And now that’s all gone. He’s stolen your past and your present and your future. He’s stolen you from yourself because you don’t even remember who you used to be anymore. You look in the mirror at this thin person, ribs nearly showing, dirty and limp hair. Who is she? You wonder. This stranger who only seems to look like me.

They don’t talk about how you long for it. Death. The embrace of the other world. How you resent him fiercely for taking it away from you. Every person deserves two things: a right to live and a right to die. How can he take your death away from you? It’s the only solace you have left. The only thing to look forwards to when that one window above your room is filled with pitiless darkness that never seems to lift even till morn.

I used to love the bdsm, the ritualized submission, the playing at rape. But in the real world, he doesn’t stop at “red” or slow down at “yellow”. He doesn’t care about pleases or tears.

He doesn’t listen when you say “no”.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure why the inside of my mind is as dark right noe


End file.
